


i'm such a fool for sacrifice

by skitter_17



Series: maplekeene songfics [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Angsty gays, Bad Communication, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Songfic, just fucking communicate, this is the same fic as the other one i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitter_17/pseuds/skitter_17
Summary: Every night, Fitzroy goes to sleep next to Argo and wakes up alone.Maplekeene songfic for Coming Down by Halsey.
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Series: maplekeene songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811428
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	i'm such a fool for sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to my maplekeene playlist and i was like 'hm. this song has a similar vibe to strange love, at least that im getting for maplekeene, the friends with benefits who both wanna date but don't communicate well enough kinda vibe. what if... i wrote the exact same fic but from fitzroy's perspective?'
> 
> i promise more maplekeene content will be coming that is different, lmao. just figured i'd get this out there while it's fresh. we love angsty boys who don't talk.
> 
> again, only read through once, sorry

Coming Down

_I found God  
I found him in a lover  
When his hair falls in his face  
And his hands so cold they shake_

Did Fitzroy plan it?

Not really.

The thought first occurred to him when he awoke from a horrible curse, Chaos’ face burned into his mind like an afterimage he could never rub away. He’d woken up in Argo’s arms, and at first, he’d been almost confused. Althea was there, too, but Fitzroy had found his attention on Argo, who had been gripping him tight, his face marred by worry lines until he registered that Fitzroy’s eyes were open, when he burst into relieved laughter like the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

Fitzroy had wondered not what he later figured would’ve made sense to think, but something very close, yet fundamentally different: _do I love him?_

Not, _does he love me,_ the conclusion one might’ve come to if they’d heard how Argo had pleaded for him to wake up, how he’d read to him, threatened him, tried everything he could to sway Fitzroy from the curse. Before that, Fitzroy would’ve rated his friendship with Argo at maybe a seven out of twenty. But there was something urgent in the relieved laugh that Argo gave, something that cut straight through Fitzroy’s bullshit and went straight to his heart. A laugh that said Argo cared about nothing except that Fitzroy was okay; he didn’t care about the baggage, what Fitzroy had dreamed of. Fitzroy had heard him, somewhere in the back of his mind, and knew that Argo knew the truth.

And Argo didn’t care.

And Fitzroy had wondered, _do I love him?_

At the time, he hadn’t had long to ponder. That whole Calhain business, you know; things that had to be taken care of, more important things. As Fitzroy was standing there, wreathed in flame, he had been focussing on Calhain and breaking the curse, but it had crossed his mind that people would think things of what he’d been doing. Largely, he wanted those people to fear him, because people listen to those that they fear. He hadn’t been particularly keen on Argo fearing him, though. He’d placed Argo on some kind of pedestal above everyone else, and while it was technically true of the Firbolg too, it was very, very different with Argo, and Fitzroy couldn’t explain why, not easily.

He just knew, looking over at Argo as they fought, that something had shifted. And, knowing it had shifted, he fought that shift, and tried to stop seeing what was different in Argo, tried to keep seeing what had always been there- some shady sidekick of his, a friend, but not a close one.

But he kept noticing how Argo was tucking his hair behind his ear, and the way his fingers moved through the soft hair as he did that. He kept noticing that Argo’s hands were shaking slightly in the bracing breeze and wondering if he should offer Argo a jacket, or something. He kept noticing Argo, because his gaze kept drifting his way, and he kept thinking about him, as hard as he tried not to.

So Fitzroy just hoped he could sleep it off, write it off as a symptom of curse recovery, and get over it.

_I found the Devil  
I found him in a lover  
And his lips like tangerines  
In his colour coded speak_

Fitzroy did not get over it.

However, he definitely didn’t _plan_ to do anything about it.

They got back to school through what felt like sheer luck and celebrated their relative safety and continued studies, at least for now. The celebration is where it all went bad. Because Argo procured whiskey from somewhere, and Fitzroy went against his better judgement and partook, not paying attention to the fact that he was a lightweight.

Fitzroy had said he would keep that strange feeling quiet and wait for it to pass. He couldn’t exactly cavort with Argonaut Keene; as much as the idea felt dangerously tempting, it couldn’t be done. There was status, ethics, long-term considerations… and, well, his heart had to be protected, of course.

But a part of him knew he couldn’t handle much liquor, and it would give him plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

The Firbolg tried a little bit and hated the taste, so Fitzroy suggested that he and Argo go into his room ‘to give Bud a little privacy’. He’d had only a few swigs by then, but he felt a warmth growing deep in his stomach, and he couldn’t stop chasing it. The way Argo had smiled that devilish smile was like he knew. Fitzroy wondered later if he did know what was going to happen.

Fitzroy had kept drinking, kept rambling. Argo wasn’t sober, and Fitzroy wasn’t out of his own control, as much as he would’ve been prepared to say he was if things went wrong. Argo drank two-thirds of the bottle, cutting Fitzroy off before Fitzroy felt like he’d had nearly enough to have the courage to do what he kind of really wanted to do.

Fitzroy didn’t _really_ plan it, but it wasn’t an accident. He knew what he was going to do from the moment he invited Argo into his room, even if he didn’t know how he was going to get there.

“Have you ever-” Fitzroy had asked out of nowhere, “did you ever, uh- meet that lover, that you were, uh, sending those letters to?”

At the time, Fitzroy genuinely hadn’t cared, and he’d been happy for Argo. Now he was kind of hoping Argo would say no, he wasn’t talking to them anymore.

Argo had laughed, hesitating for a second before answering, “Uh- no, Fitz, I didn’t.”

 _Fitz._ Argo Keene and Dindra Maplecourt were the only two people on Nua who had ever called him that, and Fitzroy complained to his mother every single time she said it. When had he stopped complaining to Argo about it?

“Oh, well. All’s well that ends well. Did it end well?” Fitzroy looks over his glasses, too drunk to really care if he’s being obvious at this point.

“Ah, uh, well.” Argo takes another swig of the nearly-empty whisky. The bottle wasn’t a huge one to begin with, but whisky is strong. “It, uh, wasn’t a lover, actually. Just a… just a friend. Yeah. A friend.”

“Mmmhmm. I see.” Fitzroy’s heart quivers in fear and hopeful anticipation. “Well, then perhaps you know as little as I do about such matters.”

“Um, well, that depends how, uh, little ya know.” Argo raises an eyebrow. Fitzroy’s sitting on the bed, and Argo’s sitting on the floor with his back against Fitzroy’s window. A simple step forward and a bend down, and Fitzroy could kiss him. He’s kind of hoping Argo kisses him first, but he knows it’s a lot to hope for. “Are ya tryin’ to imply something, Fitz?”

 _Fitz._ “No, no, no, not necessarily! Simply… discussing a matter. Between friends.”

“Discussing how much sex I’ve had? Is that what you’re trying to ask?”

Fitzroy freezes, feeling his back beginning to sweat. Uh-oh. Uncomfortable. “Well, I mean, not exactly, Argo, I mean, that wasn’t my intention. What I mean to say is that yes, I was kind of wondering that, but not for any… um… nefarious reason.”

Argo laughs, a hearty laugh that shakes Fitzroy to the core. “Nefarious reason?”

“I’m sorry, I’m making little sense. I told you I cannot handle much whiskey!” Fitzroy is warm, and comfortable. He sinks to the floor, and now it’s just a lean forward he’d need to do. If he stretched out his legs, he could intertwine himself with Argo, but he wants to do, well, more than that.

Argo just smiles. “I don’t believe you did say that, Fitz.” _Fitz._ He doesn’t get a chance to respond, because Argo continues. “But okay. I’ll answer ya question. I have had my fair share of lovers, sure. Men, women, other genders, human, elf, dwarf- uh, half-elf.”

Fitzroy wanted the answer, but he’s hit with a pang of jealousy at such a seemingly long list. “Well, so-rry. I didn’t realise you were such a rakish scoundrel.” The words are said with derision that isn’t felt.

“But ya did realise that, Fitz.” _Fitz._ “Why’d ya wanna know, anyway? You want some advice?”

“Perhaps,” Fitzroy says, and well, it’s technically true. He lets the whisky talk then, ignoring the beating of his heart against his ribcage like a prisoner trying to force an escape. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that there was someone I might be into. And I was, perhaps, a little bit tipsy, and so were they, and we were in my room, and I didn’t really know how to approach the matter. Could you perhaps explain, maybe give a demonstration if you could, um, what I should do in that scenario?”

Argo’s eyes twinkle and Fitzroy melts. He almost shrinks in on himself and closes off when he realises what he said, but he waits long enough to hear Argo’s response, and he’s glad he does.

“And in this scenario,” Argo says, putting the whiskey down and leaning forward on his knees, “is this person you’re into, are they a handsome water genasi with a fabulous moustache?”

“They might be,” Fitzroy admits, his face aflame, “although perhaps they are a little too proud of their moustache.”

And it wasn’t too much to hope for. Argo leans forward, reaching to grab the back of Fitzroy’s neck, setting off metaphorical sparks (because sometimes, with Fitzroy, the sparks were literal) as he pulls him closer. Argo’s lips are soft, beautiful, wonderful, and Fitzroy had never kissed anyone before but he’s always kind of thought of what it’d be like, and he never quite imagined… this. Argo’s breath smells quite a bit of whiskey, and so does Fitzroy’s, but there’s the underlying scent of citrus, and the ocean. Argo.

His heart is racing at the speed of sound, and Fitzroy can’t pull away.

_Now we're lost somewhere in outer space  
In a hotel room where demons play  
They run around beneath our feet  
We roll around beneath these sheets_

They’re supposed to be worried about some demon prince posing as Hieronymous Wiggenstaff, running the school and doing whatever he wants. They’re supposed to be worried about imps and chain demons and xorns and pit fiends. They’re supposed to be focussed on turning a dog into a principal again, or at the very least, getting passing grades.

But Fitzroy’s not on Nua right now. He’s somewhere else with Argo, somewhere else only they can get to, somewhere else that nobody else is invited to; it’s just the two of them, and Argo is kissing Fitzroy, so frankly Fitzroy doesn’t care about any of the outside world at all right now.

Fitzroy doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he _feels_ it. He reacts and responds to Argo’s movements, doing as he does. Argo begins to unbutton his jacket, and so after helping him shuck it off, Fitzroy’s undoing Argo’s shirt, taking a moment to run his hands over the smooth blueness of Argo’s skin, feeling how some of it is scaled and some of it is smoother, like human skin. Argo’s muscles are not as huge as Fitzroy’s, but they’re defined, and Fitzroy likes running his hands over them. After a moment, he sees Argo watching him with an amused grin and blushes, breaking the awkwardness by returning to the kiss he didn’t want to leave to begin with.

_I've got a lover, a love like religion  
I'm such a fool for sacrifice  
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down  
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down_

When it’s over, they talk for hours afterwards, and Fitzroy will never, ever tell anyone what he decides that night. Because he knows it’s foolish, knows it’s stupid, knows it’s just a whim of his heart; and yet, he feels it anyway, knows it anyway. His heart beats to a new rhythm now, a new rhythm he believes in, and nothing will change it.

He decides it as their sweat mingles together and Argo slaps a hand over Fitzroy’s mouth to keep him quiet; he decides it as he finds a spike of pleasure like every nerve in his body filling with electricity, and he shakes with a gasp; he decides it as he’s coming down from that, breathing heavily, realigning himself with his world now that he knows that Argo Keene’s in it more than Fitzroy ever expected or, until recently, wanted him to be. This act won’t go away, he realises as he’s coming down; this is permanent. The decision isn’t a decision in and of itself, but more so a decision to recognise what he suspects the truth brewing in his heart is, and if it ever ends, it’ll be a part of Fitzroy’s past, a memory shaping him as much, if not more than Clyde Nite’s, than his magic, than his childhood.

He decides that night that he is in love with Argo Keene.

_I've got a lover and I'm unforgiven  
I'm such a fool to pay this price  
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down  
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down_

And Fitzroy is a fool. An idiot. An absolute clown, stupid, dumb. He regrets his decision and tries to pretend he didn’t decide it, because Argonaut Keene held him until he went into a trance and then just… left. The deed was done and Argo left. Fitzroy comes down from the high of loving him, and hates him. Sort of.

Fitzroy didn’t process it properly in his sleep, because half-elf trances are more sleep paralysis and less meditation, but he woke up angry. Angry, mostly at himself, for making that decision, for falling for the trick, for falling for _Argo,_ for falling for that little quirk of his lips, how he tucks his hair behind his ears, how he says _Fitz_ like that. For falling for a rakish scoundrel, for letting himself be another notch on a belt.

Fitzroy Maplecourt is not a notch on anyone’s belt, and so he pretends that it just straight up did not happen.

Argo seems a little disappointed, but he left. Fitzroy can’t pretend that doesn’t mean it was supposed to just be a fling. And he won’t be a fling.

As days pass, though, the anger dissipates, and what Fitzroy decided hangs over his head like a storm cloud. He sits in class and thinks about Argo still, and slowly convinces himself that maybe, just maybe, he can avoid being a notch on a belt if he’s at least special. After all, he has the power here! He’s the CEO of Thunderman LLC; he’s the villain. If Fitzroy can take control, say he wants Argo again, and make him stay, maybe, just maybe, that thorny vine around his heart will fade, because he’ll be special, and Argo Keene won’t have just discarded him like used tissue when he was done.

But that urge, that voice, sounds like Chaos. And maybe Argo just didn’t like Fitzroy like that. Fitzroy stays in limbo, uncertain.

Until Argo came into his room. “Y’know, Fitz, we can’t keep dancing around each other like this. ’S taking a toll on both of us.”

And Fitzroy was terrified, insisting he was fine, but he tripped all over himself, and wasn’t able to keep a straight face. Fitzroy had ended up apologising, but the moment it’d even been suggested that Fitzroy actually hadn’t had a problem with what had happened, Argo had kissed him again, and Fitzroy had forgotten every conviction he had had since that first night. He’d thrown out everything, and he was such a fool.

Because Argo still left again that night.

_I found a martyr  
He told me that I'd never  
With his educated eyes  
And his head between my thighs_

Fitzroy doesn’t know how to feel, and that’s the beginning and the end of it. He wants to date Argo; he feels that had been made clear. It isn’t like Argo isn’t interested at all, because he keeps coming back. He just never stays. If it wasn’t for that, Fitzroy might think everything was perfect.

Argo fights for him. He protects him, jumps to his defence, he’s said he would die for him. He throws himself into dangerous situations just to help Fitzroy out a little bit; and yeah, it’s what a sidekick is supposed to do, but Fitzroy’s pretty sure he’s not misreading the vigour with which Argo fights at his side, the eagerness he has to protect Fitzroy. To fight for Fitzroy, to make him happy.

The thought occurs to Fitzroy at a time when it shouldn’t, because they’re alone, and that means Fitzroy is going to say something dumb. It’s past midnight, and Argo is lying on Fitzroy’s chest; _please,_ Fitzroy thinks, _don’t leave this time. Just this once, stay. Stay, please, prove to me that falling in love with you wasn’t a mistake._

He wishes he didn’t just have that thought, because he hates remembering that he’s in love with Argo. He thought it again, when Argo jumped in the way of a magic missile in practice the other day. That’s what he’s thinking about when he says it.

“Someday,” Fitzroy says, “I’m going to give back to you, you know that, Argo?”

Argo sits up, looking up and meeting Fitzroy’s eyes, although a stray hand still casually draws circles on Fitzroy’s sternum. “Give what back to me, Fitz?”

 _Fitz._ Oh, what Fitzroy wouldn’t give to hear, _I love ya, Fitz._ “You always protect me, Argo, do… you know, chivalrous things, and such.” _Except abandoning me at night._ “I’m supposed to be chivalrous, you know? I’m a knight, in absentia. Let me save your life someday, hmm?”

“Ahh, but you’ve already saved my life!” Argo grins. Oh, Fitzroy loves that grin; it pulls at his heart so tenderly, like all the right chords on a harp. “I don’t wantcha to do it again. I don’t want your life to be in danger again, ya hear? Don’t you ever go jumping into danger again, not for me, not for nothing. Never.”

And oh, how Fitzroy wants to believe that he really feels that strongly about it. It’s not that Fitzroy doesn’t believe it, either; it’s that he has no idea if he can trust it or not. He looks in Argo’s eyes, searching for the truth in them, and honestly, all he sees is a great sadness that it aches to recognise, aches to comprehend.

Fitzroy shuts the pain machine that is his heart off. “I apologise for bringing up such a grim subject,” he mutters, only half meaning it. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I’m sorry, Argo, I’m still very bad at this… whole thing. Forgive me for saying something stupid. Let’s just… forget I said anything.”

Argo smirks, leaning up on his elbow. He slowly starts to pull the sheets down over Fitzroy’s hips, and Fitzroy leans back, feeling arousal pool in his stomach and wondering if this is such a good idea. “I know just the thing to distract ya again,” Argo says, and Fitzroy swallows, his mouth dry, as Argo moves his legs to sit between them, crouching down and pressing a small kiss below his belly button before going lower.

And Fitzroy fears that this is all this is ever going to be, before giving in.

_I found a saviour  
I don't think he remembers  
'Cause he's off to pay his crimes  
And he's got no time for mine_

The conversation still bothers Fitzroy later. How Argo seemed so dismissive of his own life, like it didn’t matter if he died, but Fitzroy’s life was important. It was like he didn’t even recognise all he’d done for Fitzroy, like he didn’t even rate himself. Like he doesn’t recognise his own importance.

And damnit, Fitzroy thinks Argo’s very important, more important than anything else on Nua.

But Fitzroy can’t ever say this. And he can’t ever say this because Argo’s now going to the lengths of turning him over before leaving, just so Fitzroy can’t see him go, even though he knows the moment he’s moved that Argo is leaving, and he knows the moment he wakes up without him that Argo has gone.

Fitzroy wants to date Argonaut Keene all the time. In the morning, during breakfast, during the day, having lunch, fighting bad guys, in class, with friends, at dinner, on dates, at home, in the forest, in the hospital, together, alone, and in bed. Argo seems to only want the very last of all of those options, and it’s killing Fitzroy slowly, day by day.

_Every single night pray the sun will rise  
Every single time make a compromise  
Every single night pray the sun will rise, but_

Nothing changes. Every time it happens, Fitzroy hopes, and prays, and desperately silently begs for Argo to stay, and he never does.

Fitzroy just wants to see the sun rise on Argo’s face. He wants to see him sleeping in Fitzroy’s bed. He wants to see the early light of dawn lighting up the curve of Argo’s cheek. That’s all he asks.

Maybe not all. He also wants to see Argo wake up bleary-eyed and confused, reaching out for Fitzroy. He wants to see Argo brushing his hair as he gets ready. He wants to see Argo reading before bed. He wants to see Argo half-dressed because Argo’s too lazy to get dressed and not because they’re about to have sex. He wants to help Argo clean or cook or grocery shop; he wants to casually kiss him goodbye when they must part. He wants to be able to say _this is my side of the bed and that’s Argo’s._ He wants to argue over how to decorate a house. He wants Argo to make breakfast for him. He wants to take Argo out to lunch. He wants to see Argo open up, to see him cry and laugh and share stories. He wants to find out what Argo’s keeping from him, but not because he wants to know the information itself; he wants to find out because he wants Argo to trust him enough to tell him.

Argo turns Fitzroy over towards the mirror once Fitzroy’s in his trance, but when he wakes up, Fitzroy remembers one key detail.

In that mirror, he can see the door, and he sees Argo hesitate to leave.

That hesitation is everything.

_It's coming down, down, I'm coming down  
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down_

Fitzroy can’t be at breakfast with Argo. Not while he’s remembering that moment of hesitation and struggling to breathe as he considers what it might mean.

The Firbolg notices, and that’s when Fitzroy leaves, almost rushing out just to get a moment of fresh air and think. _Get out of your head, Fitzroy. What’s real?_

It takes almost two hours of self-conversation, of muttering to himself as he did laps of the school grounds, to figure this much out:

Argo didn’t want to leave. He seemed to want to be with Fitzroy. There was something keeping him from it, and it wasn’t disinterest. What it could be couldn’t be said for sure, but Fitzroy remembers that Argo didn’t seem to value his own life as highly as he valued Fitzroy’s, and he genuinely seemed to care about Fitzroy. And Fitzroy had been rather defensive.

Maybe Argo had made an untrue assumption? Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was an idiot’s blind love, but maybe, just maybe, if Fitzroy told Argo the truth, things could take a turn for the better. And maybe, just maybe, Argo would, in turn, tell Fitzroy the truth.

Fitzroy didn’t know how this would go. He didn’t know what would happen. All he knew was that he was hopelessly in love with Argonaut Keene, a rakish scoundrel, _his_ rakish scoundrel, and he’d better take the best shot he had at keeping that.

At making Argo his in the morning, too.


End file.
